There was a hunter in the woods who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and, having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night.
He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall and, exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits; only windows.